There Are Many Paths To Tread
by Elwen Of The Hidden Valley
Summary: Estel is injured in his first patrol with his foster brothers. Will he be able to take up the mantle of Chieftain in due course?
1. Chapter 1

This is (not for profit) fanfiction based upon the works of JRR Tolkien in his Lord Of The Rings universe. It is based upon the information from the appendices in Return Of The King.

I have adjusted the season in which Aragorn and Arwen meet to suit the timeframe of my tale.

THERE ARE MANY PATHS TO TREAD

Chapter 1

"Adar!" Elladan's voice echoed through the hallways of Imladris, drawing many from their chambers. "Adar!" The warrior's voice grew more strident, concern lending it volume and urgency.

From a doorway ahead Elrond of Rivendell appeared, book in hand. He frowned when he saw his dishevelled son running down the hallway towards him.

"Elladan! Enough! You have been among mortals for too long, it seems. There is no need to disturb the entire household." His words were delivered in a voice that carried no further than his son's ears but Elladan skidded to a halt, a blush just visible through the grime on his face.

"I apologise, Adar. But Estel is hurt. We were beset by orcs upon the high pass. You must come at once for I fear he is gravely wounded."

Elrond paused only long enough to set down his book before waiving on his son and following him to the porch. The occupants of the Last Homely House were treated to the unusual spectacle of the Lord of Imladris running and several turned out, just to be able to say in future years that they had seen it.

By the time they reached the porch Gilraen was kneeling at her son's side. At the soft sound of elven feet she turned a tearstained face to Elrond. "Help him," she pleaded quietly.

Elrond dropped lightly to one knee, touching fingers below the youth's jaw to test the pulse of blood there and finding it was weak and racing. His expert gaze took in the movement of Estel's chest, attesting to the fact that he still breathed at least. Other than that it was difficult to tell what injuries he had sustained for he seemed to have been bathing in blood; the original colour of his clothing unidentifiable. He ran practiced hands over Estel's body then thumbed up each eyelid, moving his hand to block the sun from them and frowning at what he discovered.

Two of his healing assistants appeared with a stretcher and Elrond helped them lift Estel onto it. That the young mortal made no sound of protest worried Elrond but his calm demeanour did not betray his concern.

"Elladan, you will accompany me. I require more information from you regarding the circumstances of Estel's injuries. Where is Elrohir?" Elrond's keen gaze scoured the elves milling in the courtyard, noting some minor injuries to riders and horses, even as he assisted Gilraen to rise; shepherding her and his son behind the stretcher and into the house.

"Elrohir is unhurt but there are injuries amongst the horses. The orcs sought to detain us by targeting our mounts. He is assisting in the stables. Some animals may be saved but I suspect that others will have to be put out of their misery. We lost three on the pass."

Elrond nodded. "I noted some injuries amongst your companions. Were any seriously hurt?"

"No Ada. There is nothing that your assistants cannot attend. They can make their own way to the infirmary."

Elrond continued to steer a white faced and silent Gilraen, making a mental note to attend to her needs once her son was out of danger. He did not allow himself to consider for the moment, the possibility that Estel would not survive.

"And you?" he asked, making a swift visual inspection whilst never slowing his pace.

"I am unharmed, Ada. A small cut on my thigh. I will have it attended to later," replied his son, waiving at a makeshift bandage, blood stained to almost the same colour as his dark breeches.

By now they had arrived at Estel's room and Gilraen rushed ahead to spread a clean sheet over the bed. Once more, Estel made no protest at being transferred and Elrond's concern grew.

More assistants entered as the stretcher bearer's left, bringing water, bandages, Elrond's herbal and his surgical kit. Deciding that Estel's mother would probably feel better were she given a task, Elrond handed over a pair of scissors and signalled for her to start cutting away her son's clothes, with the injunction to avoid moving their charge.

Elrond took another pair and started at the other side. "Now, tell me what happened, Elladan."

By now Elladan was favouring his leg so he dropped into a nearby chair. He did not protest when, at a signal from Elrond, an assistant knelt at his side, cutting away the bloodied bandage and the leg of his breeches to treat the wound beneath.

"You know that since Prince Legolas' incident we have been avoiding the entrance from the High Pass. The orcs are too numerous and several exits from their foul nests now open directly onto the trackway. But that is still the swiftest way out of the valley if one wishes to travel to the east."

The elven lord who had established Imladris gave short shrift to this information. "Thank you Elladan. In all the centuries I have resided here that fact must have completely escaped my notice." Elrond and Gilraen were cutting away Estel's boots and the leather was proving difficult. "Lady Gilraen. You start on his clothes."

Elladan blinked as his father withdrew a wickedly sharp knife from some hidden sheath in his sleeve and for one split second he was fearful that Elrond was just angry enough to use it upon him, son or not. He breathed once more when it was applied to slice cleanly through thick boot leather. Sometimes it was easy to forget that his father had been a very capable warrior. Upon other occasions it was not so difficult after all.

"I believe I advised you to leave that matter until the spring. The winter snows will be arriving soon, making that pass unusable by anyone, orc or elf, until after Yule at the earliest. We have time enough to form a strategy to deal with the orc problem." Elrond made the last cuts and slid away the remnants of Estel's footwear, wrinkling his nose at the resulting odour before returning to the use of scissors on the rest of his clothing.

Elladan hissed as his wound was cleansed a little too thoroughly by an apprentice healer. "We thought we knew all the egress points and intended to block each with controlled collapses within the tunnels. Curunir provided us with the means."

Before Elrond could berate his son for such a rash action Gilraen rounded on Elladan. "You included my son on such a dangerous mission? He is little more than a youth! Have you any idea what his death would mean to our people, if not to me?"

Elladan noted that his father did nothing to halt her tirade and that, if nought else, indicated that he was of like mind. It was with some relief that Elladan noted Elrond distracting Gilraen. He lifted Estel carefully while she pulled away the last of her son's ruined clothing. "Elladan, at some future date you and I will discuss the wisdom of your tactics and ethics. For the present please continue your narrative."

Wincing as the apprentice set his first neat stitch, Elladan obeyed. "We had blocked three tunnels and set black powder in the fourth when we were surprised by a party of orcs. I think they may have been investigating the noise from our previous explosions and were unaware of our presence in that particular tunnel. Most of us managed to escape to the path but Estel was at the rear. Unfortunately one of our pursuers bore a torch."

Now it was Elrond's turn to wince as he imagined all too clearly what happened next. "It ignited the powder?"

Elladan nodded, then verbalised his reply when he realised that his father's attention was elsewhere. "Yes. He was not struck by any debris . . . at least any large debris . . . but he hit his head as he was blown clear." He shifted uncomfortably, earning a glower from the healer placing stitches across the long but relatively shallow gash in his thigh.

Gilraen began to gently wipe away the gore from her son's wiry frame and now Elrond bent to examine Estel's skull. Long and gentle fingers cupped his foster sons head, methodically searching every inch of skull and neck. He paused when he reached a spot on the left side and drew his hand away, finding it bloodied. Gilraen met his gaze for a moment. Her eyes stating only that she expected him to make this right, before she returned to cleansing her son's battered body.

Elrond frowned as her work revealed no cuts, although a great deal of bruising was appearing on the chest and right arm. His hands followed hers, assessing more carefully for broken bones, finding one broken rib and a clean break to one of the bones in the lower arm. "Continue, Elladan. You have not told all."

His son took a deep breath, only too aware of his father's skill at deductive reasoning. "We managed to get him onto his horse and made our escape but one of the orcs must have sent word and we were attacked again just before we reached the overhang. They were not numerous but like a swarm of angry hornets. That is when most of the injuries to our horses occurred. They cut down Estel's mount and Brethel trapped him beneath her. The blood is hers." Elladan sighed in relief as the healer spread a cooling salve on his hurt and began to bandage.

Gilraen spoke at last, her tone sorrowful. "He loved that mare. He will feel her loss."

"As will Elrohir. He raised her from foal especially for our little brother." Elladan ran a shaking hand over his face. "Please accept my apologies, Lady Gilraen. The fault was ours. He was insistent upon joining us, but we are older and supposedly wise enough to deny him."

Elrond spoke before the lady could reply. "Elladan. You are injured and beginning to exhibit signs of shock. You will accompany Erestor to your room where he will assist you to bathe and administer a sedative."

If Elladan considered objecting his words were stopped when he arose on trembling legs and began to sway alarmingly. Erestor draped the twin's arm about his shoulders and had no difficulty persuading him to leave.

Elrond did not need to watch, knowing that Elladan would recover swiftly. All his attention was needed for the injured mortal in his care. He rolled Estel's head to the side and began to gently cleanse the blood matted in his dark hair. "Nearly three thousand years of age and they may as well be children when it comes to avenging their mother's hurt. It is time this hatred ceased. They cannot kill all the orcs in Middle earth," he muttered in a rare display of annoyance. He took up his scissors and began to cut away the hair around Estel's injury to establish whether stitches were required.

"And yet to ignore evil is to allow it to flourish." Assisting in her son's care had provided Gilraen with the necessary time to regain her composure. She washed and dried her hands before selecting a nightshirt from the wardrobe. "You cannot keep them as your children forever, Elrond. They must make their own way."

Elrond allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "You sound like their grandmother."

"I am flattered you should think so."


	2. Chapter 2

Together, Elrond and Gilraen eased their shared son into a clean nightshirt and tucked him into bed. Once a fire had been lit and the room cleared of extraneous people Elrond drew up two chairs to the bedside. Gilraen sat, watching him expectantly. "What are you withholding Elrond? I saw your face when you examined that cut on his head."

The healer berated himself for allowing the concern to show. But then, perhaps it was simply that Gilraen had known him too long and was too astute. With a nod of acknowledgement, he returned his attention to their charge. "Estel has struck his head quite firmly. The bone of his skull has been damaged and a shard is depressed, causing pressure upon the brain matter beneath. I do not yet know whether this will be further complicated by blood pooling beneath it."

Gilraen's hard won composure slipped and she stifled a soft cry with her hand. Swallowing, she asked the important questions. "Will it damage his brain? Can it kill him?"

Elrond considered his hands for a moment as he composed his thoughts. "The depression is small and quite shallow so we may be fortunate to find little or no subdural bleeding. However any sustained pressure upon the matter of the brain can cause the death of that area, resulting in any number of effects upon physical or mental processes. The size and placement of the injury will determine what those effects will be and their duration. Additionally, bleeding within the cranial cavity may cause pressure upon a larger area than is indicated by the size of the external injury."

Gilraen looked down upon her beautiful child, trying to imagine her life without him. That he was flesh of her body and only son of her departed husband was reason enough to love him. But as he grew in knowledge and grace she loved and respected him even more, for the man he was becoming. She dashed away tears as she lifted her gaze to probably the only person in Middle earth with the skill to prevent her child's death. "What can you do?"

"There is a technique I have performed before. It entails lifting the bone fragments back into their proper place and dispersing any blood clots. I cannot, however, reverse any damage caused to the brain matter. Even I do not have the gift to return life that has already fled." Elrond's voice was compassionate but grave.

"Dear Este aid us," the lady prayed. "Do what you can, Elrond. He can be in no better hands." With those words Gilraen took each of those hands, bestowing upon them her mother's benison of a kiss.

Elrond was humbled by such a display of trust. At an unvocalised request Lindir appeared, crossing to the bedside to bow to the lady and his lord. "How may I assist you, Hirdir?"

"I am about to perform a healing that may require all my attention. You have aided me in the past so know what is required. Please prepare whilst I explain matters further to the Lady Gilraen."

The slight elf merely nodded before settling himself comfortably at Elrond's feet, dropping his head onto his upraised knees and closing his eyes.

"Elrond?" Gilraen nodded questioningly at Lindir.

"The manipulation I perform does not involve surgical instruments. I intend to use my will to repair the damage. However it requires much energy and concentration and when the healing trance is deep my body may forget to breathe or pump blood. Should that occur, Lindir will assume those functions for me."

Gilraen's eyes widened. "You would put your life at risk for my son?"

"At any time." Elrond smiled. "But upon this occasion, with Lindir's assistance, there will be little risk to my health. His presence is a precaution only. I would ask you not to disturb me during the procedure, however. To be forced from your son's fae suddenly would be detrimental to the health of both of us."

Gilraen nodded her awed consent. After nearly eighteen years it seemed there were still things to be learned about elves.

Elrond placed one hand upon Estel's head and dropped the other to rest upon Lindir's shoulder. The younger elf reached up to cover it with his own and then both took several deep breaths. By the fourth they were in perfect synchronisation and Elrond's head dropped forward too, as though in sleep. The room grew quiet, but for the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

Even had he not the touch to guide him, the fae of Aragorn, son of Arathorn and distant scion of the house of Elrond's own brother, Elros, would have been easy to locate. It outshone his mothers' and glowed almost as brightly as those of elven kind. But even as he paused to admire its power, Elrond could see a small shadow growing infinitely slowly to mar its light. He homed in, feeling the reassuring presence of Lindir at his back, quiescent but alert.

Slipping delicately between the damaged cranium and brain sheath Elrond applied a light but steady pressure. Slowly and smoothly the shard of bone moved up and back into its proper conformation, already beginning to knit together under his gentle encouragement. He did not dare expend much more energy upon that as his resources were finite, even with Lindir's support. He would trust nature to finish what he started.

Pushing deeper Elrond navigated between the first two layers of membrane beneath the injury site. It was some relief to find only a small rip within their fabric, causing the haemorrhaging of several delicate vessels within the inner layer. Searching diligently he located each tiny capillary and sealed it, then moved on to the dark gelatinous clot depressing the softness of the brain beneath. Questing further within Estel, Elrond triggered the release of the body's own chemicals to break it down, speeding their delivery. It would put a strain upon the youth's already taxed anatomy but the resulting weakness was a fair exchange for the prevention of further damage to his brain. As a final touch the healer drew some of his own considerable strength and fed it into his charge to support the process, gratified when Lindir thought to bolster his efforts.

Gilraen was unaware of all of this and her concern grew with each silent minute. She straightened in hope when Lindir finally showed signs of returning to the world. He blinked and then stretched before glancing up at his lord. Elrond followed only half a breath behind and leaned forward at once to thumb open Estel's eyes. Both healers were peripherally aware of Gilraen watching them expectantly. Accepting a glass of water from Lindir, Elrond leaned back in his chair once more.

"I have repaired the skull, although there is some healing yet to do. There was indeed a blood clot which I have encouraged his body to disperse. We were fortunate. Were it bigger I would have been forced to resort to surgical measures to remove it. Further healing is now wholly dependent upon Estel's will and physical strength."

Lindir offered Gilraen a glass of water too and she sipped it gratefully, feeling a little light headed now that the initial anxiety began to drain from her body. "Was there damage to his brain?

Elrond watched her sip in silence for a few moments then rose. "Yes. But as yet I do not know the extent. There is also a broken rib, although it appears to be in no immediate danger of damaging internal organs. The break in the bone of his right forearm is clean as well. Splints and a sling to prevent movement is all that is required there."

Once more, Lindir anticipated his lord's needs, helping him to splint and immobilise the injured limb. When they were finished they rolled Estel onto his side and propped him there with pillows. "What happens now?" Gilraen asked quietly when they were seated once more and Lindir was clearing away the remains of bandages and salves.

"Now we wait" Elrond replied calmly. "We cannot assess the damage done to his mind until he awakens. I would rather that happened within the next few hours but I will not force it yet." He smiled ruefully. "I would suggest that you take some rest but I know that you will refuse."

Gilraen only made herself more comfortable in her chair.

Elrond settled too, allowing his mind to wonder where it would, secure in the knowledge that Gilraen would succumb soon enough to sleep. With no stimulation and the inevitable relaxation as her body dispersed the last of the chemicals that had kept her alert throughout the previous hour, sleep was inevitable.


	3. Chapter 3

He bent lower as Estel's lashes fluttered and the young man opened unfocussed grey eyes As he suspected she would, Gilraen drifted into exhausted slumber within the hour. When the lady was so deeply unconscious that she was in danger of sliding off her chair Elrond carried her to a couch by the hearth; draping a light blanket over her slight form. Then he bent close to whisper in her ear, "He is the child of your flesh but he is also the child of my heart. You may leave him safely in my keeping for a little while at least." He laid a hand upon her brow, applying the slightest of mental nudges. "Sleep now."

Barely had he returned to his chair when Elrond noticed Estel's eyelids flicker. He reached out to touch a wrist and was gratified to find the pulse of blood stronger and less frantic than previously. He bent, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin below Estel's eye and was rewarded by another flicker.

"Estel, it is time to wake up," he encouraged softly. "You have slept long enough. The day is almost over. Wake up, child."

He bent lower as Estel's lashes fluttered and the young man opened unfocussed grey eyes.

"Well done. Do you know who I am?" Elrond smiled encouragement as he waited patiently for those eyes to bring him into focus.

Estel's lips made a couple of uncoordinated attempts then, "Ada?"

"Very good. Can you say my name?"

Estel frowned. "El . . . Elladan?"

Elrond smiled reassuringly. "Almost. My name is Elrond. Do you know where you are?"

The dark head with its fillet of bandages rolled to one side, taking in the surroundings. Estel winced as the movement caused him some pain but he eventually spoke. "Home."

"Very good. Would you care for something to drink?"

Estel made to nod, and then thought better of it. "Please."

Elrond removed the pillows and rolled him gently onto his back before slipping a strong arm beneath his shoulders. "It is chamomile tea. You have had it before." He brought the cup to Estel's lips and allowed some liquid to trickle into his mouth; relieved when he saw the youth swallow with no difficulty. His body needed the fluid. By the time they reached the bottom of the cup the liquid had cooled but Estel did not seem to mind and once he had finished Elrond returned him to his side. He was safer thus as vomiting was still a danger at this stage.

Keeping the questions simple Elrond established that his foster son was in some pain from his rib and arm and had a headache. But by the time this brief session of questioning finished it was clear from the increasingly slow replies that Estel was weakening, so Elrond allowed him to sleep once more.

He would deal with Gilraen's ire at not being awoken later. The lady had taken a severe emotional blow and needed rest for her body and mind to recover.

Elrond watched over both his charges for a couple of hours and was about to try and awaken Estel again when Elrohir slipped quietly into the room. The father in Elrond was relieved to see that his son had bathed and changed and appeared to be whole. For his part, Elrohir was relieved to find Estel well cared for and he paused only long enough to give his father a brief hug before settling into the other chair at the bedside. In deference to his foster brother and Gilraen his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"How is he?"

"Better than he was but not yet well," was all the healer replied.

"I am sorry, Adar. We did not expect to be attacked by so many and so soon."

"It is not I, but his mother, to whom you should apologise. Although I had hoped for more mature behaviour from my sons."

Elrohir only nodded so his father continued. "How are the horses? Did you lose any more?"

Relieved to be upon firmer ground Elrohir replied quickly. "We lost three on the pass and another one in the stables here. Rosson was badly wounded and lost too much blood before we could staunch it."

Elrond shook his head. "And your troop?"

"Scrapes and bruises only. Elladan had the worst injury and Erestor tells me that he has been tended and is resting. How is the Lady Gilraen taking it?"

"She is taking it very well, all things considered," came the lady's calm voice as she crossed to the bedside, reclaiming the seat swiftly vacated by Elrohir. "I believe your father intends to have words with both of you later, and when he has finished I shall expect you to attend me. I have a few choice words of my own to impart."

Although several hundred years her senior, Elrohir knew well enough not to come between a tigress and her cub and decided that whatever he said at this particular moment would probably only make matters worse. So he bowed to both and made a swift departure.

A subtle change in Estel's breathing drew Elrond's attention and he reached out to check for any changes in his condition. Before he could even touch his foster son, however, Estel began to grunt strangely. Elrond withdrew at once, watching in growing dismay as Estel's arms and legs twitched, like those of an uncoordinated swimmer.

When Gilraen would have restrained him Elrond held her back gently. "Let it run its course. He will come to little harm in a bed and you will not prevent it. Trying to restrain him will only put additional strain upon his other injuries."

Gilraen sank into his offered embrace; helpless tears forming as she watched her precious son convulse. Gradually, over several long minutes, the strange movements slowed and then ceased and Estel's breathing returned to a more normal rhythm.

"We will need clean bedding and warm water to bathe him," Elrond instructed as he released the lady and began a brisk examination. "You will find an attendant in the hallway."

If Gilraen wanted explanations or reassurance she disregarded her needs for the moment; running to the door to issue the instructions before returning to her son.

Elrond opened Estel's mouth, checking for any damage to cheek, tongue or teeth. By the time he was satisfied that the youth had caused no further injury to himself and that the arm and rib had not been disturbed, Lindir arrived with a ewer of warm water and an armful of clean sheets and towels. The three then undertook together to strip away soiled linen and clothing, making up the bed with dry sheets and padding the mattress in preparation for any further episodes.

It was only after Estel had been settled comfortably and Lindir departed that Gilraen gave voice to her anxiety. "I thought you said you had repaired the damage to his head," she accused.

Elrond rinsed his hands at the washstand. "I have repaired the bone and encouraged his body to clear the blood clot. But some damage was already done. As I explained before, the brain matter is very soft and pressure can kill it."

Gilraen sat slowly, tears trickling unheeded down her cheeks as she contemplated her son. "Is this to be his life, then?"

Elrond laid a hand upon her shoulder. "Convulsions are not unusual in these cases. But Estel is young and strong. They could fade with time. Often, when injured, another part of the brain will assume the functions lost, particularly with those of his age. He awoke briefly earlier and his speech was not impaired at least. He was a little confused but that, too, is normal with any head injury."

Leaning in to stroke her son's cheek, Gilraen swallowed back her grief. "You should have called me," she accused mildly.

"My apologies. You needed to rest."

"Not as much as I needed to talk to my son," she accused. But her words held no anger. "So we will not know what damage has been done until some time has passed?"

Elrond resumed his seat. "Until he is more coherent we cannot know whether any lasting damage has been done to his conscious thought or to the control of his body."

"You offer little consolation to a mother, Elrond."

"I can offer only truth and hope, Lady. For the present all else is in the hands of a higher authority than I."


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn was imminent when Estel stirred again. This time Elrond awoke Gilraen who had, despite her best intentions, drifted into exhausted sleep again a little while earlier. It was she whom Estel saw first when he opened his eyes.

"Ami?"

His mother smiled, tears of relief clouding her eyes as she leaned in to cup Estel's cheek. "Good morning, Estel."

Elrond came to stand at Gilraen's side. "How are you feeling?"

Estel considered this question for a few moments. "I hurt. Did I fall?"

"Twice, according to your foster brothers. And then your horse fell upon you, for good measure," Elrond supplied with a smile. "What is the last thing that you remember?"

Again, Estel took a moment to think, his brows furrowing. "They took me on patrol." He paused. "I remember we were going to destroy some of the orc's tunnels." His eyes widened. "Brethel fell? How . . . is she hurt?"

Elrond shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, Estel. Her injuries were severe. She did not survive. Elladan tells me Brethel lost a great deal of blood very swiftly and died within minutes."

A tear tracked slowly across Estel's cheek. "I do not remember. I do not remember anything after our departure from Imladris. Poor Brethel."

Gilraen glanced up at Elrond in alarm but he laid a restraining hand upon her shoulder before speaking to both of them. "You received a blow to the head. It is usual to be unable to recall events just prior to the injury. Often the memory clears with time but occasionally it never returns. Do not let it worry you unduly."

"My head does hurt. And my chest," Estel noted.

"You have cracked a rib and broken your arm. I believe those injuries to have been caused by Brethel's fall and they are not serious. I can give you something for the pain and then you must sleep. The best treatment for head injuries is rest. You will not be hunting orc again for some time." Elrond moved to the table where his herbal had been placed, along with various other items required to treat his charge. There he prepared a cup.

Gilraen stroked her son's hair. "I have no recollection of you seeking permission to attend your first orc hunting expedition. Whatever made you go with your brothers? You are still too young to undertake such a dangerous mission. When I agreed to let you join a patrol I understood that you would simply be watching the borders."

Estel sighed. "To learn to fight one must fight. Orcs do not follow the rules of the training circle. I need the experience."

Elrond hid a smile recalling uttering those exact words when instructing the twins in fighting technique many years earlier. It seemed they had passed on the advice to their younger brother. Thus proving that one should always consider ones words carefully before speaking. (A trait he wished his people had learned much earlier in their history.) He returned with the promised drink, preventing Gilraen from any further chiding. The boy did not need to add guilt to his existing litany of pain.

As he had before, Elrond fed him much needed liquid and was relieved when Estel took it all. "Sleep now, Estel. Your mother and I will watch over you."

It was some indication of the level of his injury that the usually active Estel made no protest. Although the sedative that Elrond had just administered no doubt assisted in that matter.

Once their charge slept again Gilraen turned her pent up ire upon Elrond this time. "What were your sons thinking? He is still a child. He had no business fighting orcs."

Elrond only replied calmly, "By the laws of your people he will come of age within the year. And I believe it was you who told me that we cannot keep them as children forever. Estel must find his own way if he is to take up his father's mantle as Chieftain of the Dunadain."

Gilraen felt restless and not a little trapped, crossing to the window, where the first grey hints of dawn were outlining the mountain peaks above the valley. "I sometimes wonder whether it would be better not to tell him of his heritage. Many of our chieftains did not to hold the position for long."

Elrond watched her, a darker shape against the grey landscape and sky beyond. "Yet that is his inheritance and you are aware that there is more to being Chieftain than the leadership of a small band of scattered warriors."

"Ah yes. The High Kingship," Gilraen sighed as she turned about to face him. "And how do you expect a ragtag band of men to accomplish the claiming of that crown? You and I both know that, barring some miracle, Estel would find it near impossible to wrest power from the Stewards, even if he could prove his right to do so. I fear Aragorn is destined to be just another link in the long chain of hopefuls. Can we not let him live a full and happy life; to die in his bed, surrounded by grand children? His father lived just sixty years and should have lived to twice that age. I washed his body for burial and saw the ruin that orc arrow made of his handsome face." She met Elrond's eyes squarely, adding bitterly, "You must forgive me if I feel no great excitement at the prospect of my son meeting the same fate."

Elrond's own gaze only softened. "I understand your wish to keep him safe. What parent would not want to protect their child from the many dangers in this world? But he will soon be free to make his own way in life. He deserves to know all of the paths open to him. We have no right to withhold the details of his lineage."

Gilraen returned to the bedside to stare down at her son, her ire spent.

Elrond considered for a moment. "Lady Gilraen, you have known me for many years and are aware of some of my giftings. Will you trust me now when I say that I foresee a nexus of important events, of which Aragorn will be a part?"

"What do you see," the lady demanded, her interest piqued.

Elrond shrugged. "Nothing clearly. It is strange, for the actual events seem to be shrouded. But I know that many threads are coming together and the result of their confluence will decide the fate of all of Middle earth, not just your own people."

"Will this happen soon?"

Elrond shrugged. "What is 'soon'? 'Soon' to an elf is not the same as 'soon' to a mortal. I only know that it will happen within your son's lifetime . . . however long or short that may be."

"You ask me to trust a great deal upon very little information, Elrond." The lady searched his face for long moments. "But you have cared for my son as your own since your own sons brought us here, and he only a babe in arms. Estel was so young that he has no memory of his true sire. Yours is the only father's love that he has ever known and you have been unstinting in the giving of it. I will trust you to continue to do so." Then she pleaded, "Do not betray me."

Elrond touched a hand to his heart. "Never, lady. You have my promise that I will continue to nurture and protect your son with all my heart and strength, whatever path he chooses."

"I will hold you to your promise Elrond, son of Earendil. May it remain as true and constant as the morning star that sired you."


	5. Chapter 5

Morning was well advanced by the time Estel stirred again. Beyond curtains, drawn earlier to block the brilliance of a glorious red sunrise, rain fell steadily, but the air was soft and filled with the scents of rich damp earth and greenery. Elrond knew that by evening the clouds would ride away on a westerly wind and the stars would shine clear and bright, heralding a frost upon the morrow. Autumn was advancing.

Gilraen relinquished her seat and returned to the window, opening the curtains to a grey sky while Elrond settled himself to await Estel's imminent return to the world. There had been no further convulsions and when Elrond checked a little while earlier it was to find that the pupils of Estel's steel grey eyes were now equal and reacting normally to light. The pressure had been relieved at least.

Those eyes now fluttered briefly before opening upon the comforting sight of Elrond's serene features.

"Good morning, Estel."

For a moment the youth did no more than blink, then he tried to lever himself upright.

"No, Estel. Not yet. You are still weak." Elrond laid a restraining hand upon his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think. The headache is not as bad. But, Adar . . ." He squirmed a little and Elrond nodded, lifting the appropriate receptacle from a basin by his feet and slipping it beneath the covers.

Gilraen, aware of her son's embarrassment, continued to study the rain washed garden below the balcony.

When Estel was more comfortable Elrond brought another chair and beckoned Gilraen to join them. "Would you like to try sitting up for a little while, Estel? I believe it is time for you to try some food and I need to ascertain how you cope with a change of position."

For the briefest of moments Elrond saw something cross his foster son's face. Was it alarm? But then Estel gave a small nod. "Yes. I would like to try that." He blinked, as though trying to clear his vision and Elrond considered waiting a little longer before attempting to move him, but Gilraen was already gathering extra cushions to place behind her son's shoulders.

Removing the bolsters Elrond rolled Estel slowly onto his back. "How does that feel? Is there any dizziness?"

"No."

Elrond's keen eyes noticed a slight increase in pallor, however. And Estel blinked several times. Still, the damage must be assessed so he decided to proceed; signalling Gilraen to be ready with the cushions as he began to ease their charge upright.

With the skill of many years tending the sick and wounded, Elrond found little difficulty in the lifting and Gilraen slid cushions into place. But as Elrond was about to stop, Estel paled appreciably. Were it not for elven reflexes the bedding would have needed changing again for Estel started retching just as Elrond slid a basin into place. There was nothing in the youth's stomach but retching bile was, if anything, more painful and it certainly did nothing to reduce the pain from his broken rib. Once Estel's stomach had finished its rebellion Gilraen gave him a sip of water to rinse his mouth and he collapsed back into the cushions, breathing laboured and eyes clenched tight against the agony.

Gilraen blotted tears and perspiration from her son's face as Elrond laid a gentle hand upon the erratically rising and falling chest. "Breathe slowly, Estel. The more you struggle, the more pain you will cause." Elrond slipped into a light healing trance, helping his foster son to shunt some of the pain aside, and after several long minutes his breathing began to even out. Once he was calm the elven healer released him and settled back thoughtfully in his chair.

Gilraen took her son's hand, her thumb stroking the back of his palm in soothing rhythm. "Did we raise him too quickly?" she asked.

Elrond did not reply, instead addressing his foster son. "Estel. Open your eyes please and tell me what you see." His tone brooked no argument and Estel knew of old that it would be best to do as instructed at the first time of asking.

He opened his eyes and blinked. "I see you and Ami."

Elrond raised a winged brow at Estel's elegant evasion. "Perhaps I should rephrase my question. Do you see anything unusual?"

Estel only lowered his head.

"Estel, I cannot determine how to treat you if you are not honest with me. I know you are young and wish to return to your life as swiftly as possible, but you were seriously injured and I need to know what symptoms you are experiencing so that I may help you to do that."

The youth's voice was a little stronger at least. "I can see strange coloured lights at the edges of my vision and they will not go away."

"That is better. And did moving make you dizzy?"

"Yes."

Gilraen continued to stroke her son's hand and now she smiled reassuringly. "You have been lying down for a long time. Dizziness is to be expected, is it not Elrond?" Her words carried more hope than certainty.

"It is, indeed. It can also be a result of the blow to his head, as can the flashing lights or other visual disturbances. Only time will tell us which it is and whether the symptoms will fade." Elrond studied his charge for a moment. "For the moment rest remains your best hope for a cure. And a little food and drink would help, but we shall start that gently with some broth. I have no doubt that your stomach still feels a little fragile."

Estel smiled ruefully. "Definitely. But I think I can manage some broth."

Elrond nodded, rising. "I believe your mother can see to that. And afterwards I want you to sleep. I shall bathe and take some rest too." He smiled at the lady. "Send for me if Estel's condition changes. Lindir is outside the door and will fetch anything you require. I will instruct him to fetch the broth and I shall return later so that you may eat and rest."

When Gilraen looked as though she would argue Elrond met her, gaze for gaze. Hardier folk than Gilraen had tried to outlast that steely will and failed, as she did now.

With no further words Elrond left mother and son.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Estel sighed for the tenth . . . no . . . possibly the eleventh time that morning. Elrond had promised yesterday that he could sit in a chair by the window today with the injunction that if he tried to leave his bed, unassisted, he would be dumped straight back into it by whoever discovered him.

At least his mother had left the curtains open today. For the longest time Estel had been unable to bear strong light so they had remained closed on all but the cloudiest of days and his world had been defined by the walls of this room. He suspected that, if asked, he could by now make a very accurate depiction of every knot and line of grain in the ceiling beams above his bed.

If he was honest, for the first few weeks he could not have done even that, so perhaps boredom was a step up. The strange aura's in his vision were becoming less frequent but still plagued him when the light was too strong or he grew tired, which happened far too often for his liking. At the sound of the door opening he turned from counting the panes in the nearest window.

"Good day, Estel. How are you feeling?" Elrond was smiling . . . at least what passed for a smile most of the time for Elrond. Estel had known him long enough now to gauge that he was in a pleasant mood.

He tried to sound very healthy, giving his foster father a broad smile. "I'm feeling much better today, thank you." Even he cringed at the slightly over enthusiastic tone in his voice and decided immediately to reduce the intensity of the smile. It was making his cheeks ache anyway.

Elladan followed his father, his smile much broader and his eyes twinkling as he strode to Estel's bedside. "Hello, Little Brother. Gilraen tells me you enjoyed your breakfast today."

Estel scowled. "The breakfast was fine. But mother accompanied it with a bed bath."

Elrond was arranging furniture by the window so Estel's hope rose. Elladan laughed. "That's what mothers do. She did it when you were a baby so she's used to it."

Estel rolled his eyes. "I'm a bit bigger nowadays and I've been bathing myself for a long time. Have you any idea how embarrassing it is to be bathed by your mother when you're twenty years old? No. Of course you wouldn't. As an elf you were still a child."

Elladan only laughed again as he threw back Estel's covers. "Well, she is not here now. So just let me find your slippers and then Adar and I will help you to your chair."

Moving to the edge of the bed, Estel gingerly dropped his feet to the floor, where he was further embarrassed by having his foster brother put his slippers on for him.

That's when Elladan did it. He knew he should not but he and Elrohir had teased Estel ever since the young man was old enough to retaliate. Kneeling at his foster brother's feet he said, "Let me just fasten these. We would not want ikle brother to get cold tootsies."

Estel did not bother with words. He used the simple expedient of putting the aforementioned tootsies, backed with most of his body weight, on Elladan's shoulder and pushing. His foster brother landed unceremoniously on his bottom with a loud, "Oof!"

Just as Elladan was about to forget himself and make a grab for Estel's ankle, Elrond's voice cut through the high spirits. "Elladan. I have just spent several weeks attempting to return your foster brother to some semblance of his previous good health. I would appreciate it if you did not negate all my hard work within the space of one morning."

Grinning smugly, Estel held forth an imperious foot for Elladan to fasten the slipper. Elladan obliged him without further comment but there was a twinkle in his grey eyes which promised, "Later, Little Brother."

As Elladan moved to his foster brother's side, Elrond appeared at the other. "I understand that you will find it difficult to resist the temptation to move more quickly, but I want you to walk at the pace set by Elladan and myself, at least for your first excursion."

Estel's brows climbed into his fringe, where they hung about looking surprised for a while. He estimated the distance between bed and chair to be all of four good strides. Even had he the intention it would be very difficult to build up any speed within four strides. And since when had four strides been described as an "excursion"? Excursions at the very least included a packed lunch.

Any further consideration was prevented by Elladan and Elrond wrangling Estel into a dressing robe. Estel did not remember owning such a garment and suspected, from the costly and voluminous fabrics, that it was on loan from his foster father. He revised his estimate of the number of steps required to reach the chair. Elrond was several inches taller than Estel so, with the need to hold yards of fabric out of the way, it was likely to take an additional two or three.

He was just trying to work out how to best handle the fabric when Elladan and Elrond took an elbow each and levered Estel slowly off the bed and onto his feet. The youth blinked, discovering that he had to lean most of his weight against his foster father as the room performed several lazy circles. He was very relieved when he was not required to move for several moments.

"Just relax, Estel. You may be feeling a little dizzy . . . as you did when you first sat up. Just let me know when you are ready to move." Not for the first time in his life Estel mentally rolled his eyes at Elrond's gift for understatement. Not only was the room rotating but strange blue and yellow glowing lights were wavering at the edge of his vision once more.

After what seemed like an eternity, the room ceased its gyrations and Estel straightened. "I'm alright," he murmured as he considered how to put one foot in front of the other. It had been some weeks since he had performed that exercise and his brain seemed to have forgotten how. Just as he was about to panic, his helpers took a small step. In automatic response his own leg moved and Estel let out a relieved breath.

It took twelve steps to reach the chair. Estel counted each one. Of course, the last three had been more drag than step for, by then, his muscles had run out of energy and his knees had assumed all the coordination of a new born colt. Had his helpers not been elven strong Estel's descent into the chair would have been swift and uncomfortable, but they held him easily, even managing to arrange the heavy robe before lowering him gently.

At this point the room was performing its by now familiar rolling, not that Estel could see much of it through the coloured light display, so he closed his eyes on the scene. When he opened them again it was to the awareness that time had passed. He was sitting back in a comfortably padded chair, with his legs resting on a footstool beneath a heavy blanket. A table, containing a glass of water and a book, sat to his left and a long window stood slightly ajar to his right. For several moments he simply savoured the sounds of birdsong and water and the scent of earth.

"How are you feeling now?" Elrond appeared at his left, bending to tuck the blanket more closely. "Has the dizziness faded?"

Estel blinked away the last of the blue lights. "Have I been asleep? Yes. The dizziness has gone."

"You only rested for a few minutes. We would have carried you to the chair but I considered a blanket bath from your mother to be enough indignity for one day."

Noting the twinkle in his foster father's eyes Estel allowed himself a grin. "I don't suppose you could instead persuade Lindir to do that for me tomorrow?"

Elrond took pity on him. "I am certain he can be spared to assist you. I shall make the arrangements." He placed a small silver hand bell upon the table. "In the meantime, should you require anything, ring this." Elrond fixed him with a stern glare. "And I mean 'anything'. You are not to try to leave this chair unaided. Do I have your promise, Estel?"

Had his foster father not asked him a direct question Estel would have dissembled. But he had been raised to respect an oath given. "I promise that I shall not try to rise from this chair without aid." Estel all but choked on each word, particularly when he saw Elrond smile knowingly.

"Then I shall leave you to enjoy the fresh air. Elladan will return in a little while with your luncheon." With those words Elrond departed on silent feet.

Estel leaned back against the cushions, rolling his head indolently to look at the sky. It was a cloudy autumn day but he did not care. Just to feel connected to the world beyond his room once more was enough for the moment.

In the weeks that followed Estel improved . . . although not nearly as quickly as he would have liked.


	7. Chapter 7

Making his own way to the balcony from his bed had seemed such a simple thing.

Estel had been doing it with his foster brother's assistance for several days and had even managed to sit on the edge of the bed to use the chamber pot. The first time he had used it unaided he had felt freer than he had standing atop a mountain. It was the first symbol that he was back in charge of his own life. Until then he had never realised how ecstatic he could feel about peeing alone and Elrohir had arrived a few minutes later to find his foster brother lying on his back, grinning stupidly at the ceiling with the thunder mug clenched in both hands on his stomach, for all the world like the tomb effigy of some ancient king, clutching his crown.

Estel had continued to grin all the way through Elrohir's lecture. Eventually, Elrohir had simply thrown his hands in the air, snatched the pot and taken it away to empty and clean. If he reported it to Elrond, Estel suffered no repercussions and accepted it as a small triumph.

It was two days later, still flushed with his success with the chamber pot, that Estel decided to surprise everyone with his swift recovery by walking to the balcony on his own.

Deciding that he ought to appease his foster father in some way, Estel took time to don the heavy dressing robe before standing, even though it was still too long and there was way too much fabric for his taste. Elladan had brought him a beautiful walking stick a few days earlier and Estel took it in one hand, whilst gathering up some of the extra fabric of the robe in his other.

Slowly, he pushed up from the bedside, leaning more heavily than he would have liked upon the stick. The room began to perform lazy rotations and his knees trembled as he waited for the world to stand still. After what felt like an age the walls ceased their gyrations and Estel let out a sigh of relief.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the stick, wobbling alarmingly before planting it down swiftly only a few inches in front of him. Walking was a lot easier with an elf beneath each arm, he decided. Having committed himself however, he determined to continue. It was only twelve steps to the chair so it could only be a few more to the balcony.

Deciding to err upon the side of caution for once he slid his foot up to the stick, rather than trying to lift it. When the room remained still and his knees were still supporting him he decided to throw caution to the winds and actually lifted his other foot before bringing it level with the first. He grinned. Indeed, had he the balance required he would have performed a jig.

Another breath and another step. Now he was truly committed for there were no more pieces of furniture to rescue him until he reached the chair by the window, ten steps distant. He paused to consider this for a moment because he could see a couple of tiny yellow motes dancing at the edge of his vision. Two steps behind him was the bed and if he turned around nobody would be any the wiser. He could try again another day.

"No". Clenching his jaw Estel took another shuffling step. The two tiny yellow motes spawned a couple more. "Like bloody rabbits," he muttered as he took another step closer to the haven of the chair. Somewhere between one step and the next he discovered he had determined that chair, rather than balcony, was now his goal. Now Estel was truly in no-man's land for both chair and bed were out of reach.

Pausing to take a couple of deep breaths Estel could feel his knees beginning to tremble in earnest now and he was hot and perspiring heavily. "Bloody robe." Even as he had that thought the fabric he had gathered so carefully out of his way began to shift on his arm. He made a mental note never to wear anything loaned by his foster father again as the whole slid from his grip in an avalanche of heavy brocade and satin.

Later, Estel decided that if he had just let it slide he would probably have managed to keep his balance. But instinct took over and he made a grab for it. The sudden movement was too much for his already protesting knees and they began to fold. One staggering step forward and his foot caught in the hem. With the stick in one hand and a snatched bundle of fabric in the other he had no means to break his fall and the floor tilted up to meet his chin with a resounding thump which added red stars to the yellow motes. "Bloody floor," was all he managed to mumble before his world went black.

oOo

"Estel?" It was Elladan's voice and he sounded concerned.

Estel opened his eyes to a veritable party of yellow spots dancing across his vision. Not content with performing a sedate gavotte they seemed to have taken up a country reel and he snapped his eyes shut at once.

"Damn it, Little Brother. Adar will have both our hides for this. What were you thinking?"

Finding his mouth full of liquid, Estel swallowed before replying, recognising at once the salt-metallic taste of blood. "Wanted to walk," was all he could manage and he winced for it hurt his lip. "Ouch."

"Alright. Open your eyes. Let me see if you have done any serious damage."

Estel wanted to tell him that it was his lip that hurt, not his eyes, but decided to obey. He was not surprised when the yellow motes, who seemed to have multiplied at a rate that would have put rabbits to shame, resumed their wild Morris dance. Beyond them he met Elladan's concerned gaze.

"Well. You don't seem to have hit your head too hard this time. But with that cut lip we are not going to be able to keep this from Adar."

Estel lay unprotesting as his brother felt along arms and legs. Apparently happy with what he found he gently rolled Estel onto his back, resulting in him being wrapped, cocoon-like in his robe. Rather than try to disentangle him Elladan simply scooped him up like a babe and deposited him upon the bed. Estel amused himself trying to count yellow motes as Elladan unravelled him, only scowling when he announced, "And you've got blood on Adar's robe."

How could it be any worse? At that moment the door opened to admit Elrond and Gilraen and Estel moaned, wondering if he could dissemble unconsciousness well enough to fool either of them. One glance at his mother's thunderous countenance put an end to that half formed idea.

Gilraen hurried to the bed and automatically began to assist Elladan in wrestling Estel back beneath the covers he had just fought so hard to escape. Now he was beginning to regain some control of his senses anger rose to the surface and he slapped their hands away. "I'm alright! Leave me be."

All movement ceased at once, and then Elrond stepped to the fore. "Lady Gilraen, I believe Estel would appreciate a few minutes to recover his equilibrium and I need to perform a proper examination. Perhaps Elladan could escort you to your chamber for a little while. I shall attend you there shortly."

For a moment the lady looked as though she would argue but, with one final glance at her son's bloodied chin, she nodded and Elladan ushered her gently from the room.

For a moment the healer studied Estel's eyes then, seemingly content with what he found, Elrond busied himself filling a basin with water and gathering a tray of herbs and cloths. By the time he returned to the bedside Estel was feeling more contrite. "I am thorry," were the first words he slurred as his foster father settled upon the edge of the bed.

As always, Elrond did not sugar coat his reply. "And so should you be. I shall convey your apologies to your mother." He dabbed away the blood from Estel's chin then gently tugged down the lip to examine the interior of his charge's mouth.

Unable to reply with his lip held fast in his foster father's fingers, Estel settled upon compliance.

"This is superficial," Elrond announced quietly. "It will cease to bleed with a little cold and pressure." Estel hissed when he gently prized apart the edges of the cut, dribbling in a little water to ensure it was clean. The bleeding restarted but he gently pressed a cool, damp cloth to the hurt. Estel mused that his foster father now had him at his mercy and was not surprised when Elrond continued his mild censure.

"You are a young man and it is the duty of young men to test their wings. But I do not believe you fully grasp the seriousness of the illness from which you are still recovering. In that I consider myself to be partially at fault. I did not wish to alarm you unduly."

Elrond removed the cloth to check on the progress of Estel's lip and the youth took the opportunity to reply. "It was a knock on the head. I've had them before in sword training."

The cloth was replaced and Elrond's brows arranged themselves into an elegant frown. Even after all these years Estel was envious of the way all elves did everything so elegantly. He always felt like a newborn colt in their presence.

"Estel, this was no tap on the head with a practice blade. Had the injury happened anywhere else you would have died. Even here, had your brother's not rushed you home you could still have died, or become permanently disabled." Elrond gave Estel time to absorb that sobering information before continuing. "You are recovering very well but it will take time. Your body has had an enormous shock." He lifted his hand to check the injury again, rinsing the cloth in more cold water.

Estel took advantage of the respite. "I am no elf. Time is precious to a mortal and I do not wish to spend it lying in a bed."

Elrond evinced a rare huff of exasperation as he pressed the cool cloth to Estel's lip once more. "Which sounds better to you . . . a few weeks in bed, following my instruction, or several months if you follow your own path? Your body will heal more swiftly if you allow it to rest. You are from a long lived and healthy people and you have youth on your side but even you cannot force healing."

When the cloth was removed again Estel made one last, half hearted attempt. "Can you not force the healing? I am losing my mind sitting here doing nothing."

Seemingly content with the progress of the lip Elrond set the cloth aside, washing and drying his hands. "I have much skill in healing. But there are things even I cannot do. The speed of your recovery is now dependent upon you. You wanted responsibility. Well, here it is. The first lesson we all learn is to take responsibility for our own minds and bodies."

His foster father rose to leave, taking care to collect both robe and stick. "I shall leave you with that thought. You mother will be anxiously awaiting news of her only child's health. It is time I set her mind at rest." At the doorway Elrond turned to fix Estel with a firm gaze. "I trust that I may now do that?" Not waiting for Estel's reply he departed.

Estel allowed his body to recover at its own pace after that, which did not preclude the occasional fretful outburst. But he progressed from his chair by the window to the couch in a garden pavilion, at first with the help of his foster brothers but eventually with his stick. Dogged by weakness, the disturbances to his vision were quicker to fade but he began to make his way slowly in the world once more; at least the world as encompassed by house and gardens.


	8. Chapter 8

It was in the garden pavilion, sheltered from the cold, that Elrond found his foster son one morning. Drawing up a chair he set a long wooden box at his feet and settled comfortably; waiting patiently, as elven kind are wont, for Estel to awaken. It was the sound of the noonday bell that finally woke the youth and he sat up in surprise when he discovered that he had company.

"I am sorry. I did not hear you arrive."

"Indeed. You were asleep, an occupation of which I approve in your current circumstances. That is why I did not awaken you. How do you fare today, Estel?"

"I do not have a headache, which is an improvement. But why am I so slow to heal? This enforced rest is driving me to distraction. I need to be doing things." Estel smacked his hand upon the couch in emphasis and Elrond smiled at the impatience of all youth.

"It will come, with time. You are already much improved and the signs are good that you will make a full recovery. You have youth and strength on your side and more than a little determination."

Estel sighed. "When I do get better I suspect my mother will keep me locked within the borders of Imladris for the rest of my life."

"Can you blame her? You have caused her much distress."

Estel looked appropriately contrite. "I know. I wanted to show everyone that I was a grown man, capable of making decisions and defending myself. And all I have done is show that, grown or not, I am only capable of making very poor decisions."

"It was but one decision. You have merely shown that you can make mistakes, just like the rest of us," Elrond replied as he laid a comforting hand upon his foster son's arm. "But mistakes are opportunities to learn. What have you learned from this experience?"

Estel snorted. "That my foster brothers can lead me into a lot of trouble?"

Elrond chuckled. "You learned that years ago, when they left you up a tree all morning. But what have you truly learned from this experience?"

Estel considered for a moment, watching a blackbird foraging for worms on the lawn. "To think for myself. Not to blindly follow others into danger."

"Very good. Thinking ahead and weighing the dangers are both qualities required in a leader."

"You think I could be a leader of others one day?" Estel asked with some surprise.

"You were born to it. You know that the name 'Estel' means Hope. Do you know why that name was chosen for you?"

"I have always assumed my father chose it, but what he hoped for I do not know since he did not live long enough to tell me."

"It was I who named you Hope. Your true name was hidden to protect you, for there are those who would do you harm if they knew your heritage."

"My heritage? My mother would not even tell me my father's name, only that he was dead. She grew distressed whenever I enquired about him so I stopped asking years ago. And why would anyone want to harm me?" Estel was fully awake now and trying to push to his feet to pace, as was his wont when agitated.

Elrond moved his stick out of reach and placed a restraining hand upon his arm once more. "Be still, child although perhaps I should call you child no longer. I believe you to be mature enough now know what you inherit. You are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dunadain who was slain by orcs when you were still a babe." Having dropped his rather large stone Elrond sat back to watch the ripples. Despite his recent mishap he knew Estel to be intelligent. He had seen to the man's education personally and knew that he would put two and two together quickly. He smiled when he saw comprehension dawn.

"The Chieftains of the Dunadain are descendents of the House of Elros Tar Minyator, your brother and first High King." Aragorn's eyes widened. "That would make me heir to the combined thrones of Gondor and Arnor! Surely you are mistaken?"

Elrond's brow rose as he reached into a pocket and drew out a ring. "Do you think that as Elros' brother I would be mistaken in tracing his descendents? Here is a jewel that I have long held in safe keeping for you." He offered the ring in his palm. "This is the ring that Felegund gave to Barahir in token of their abiding friendship, wrought for Finrod before him." Elrond's eyes grew distant, his voice taking on a singsong tone:

"Proud are the words, and all there turned  
to see the jewels green that burned  
in Beren's ring. These Gnomes had set  
as eyes of serpents twined that met  
beneath a golden crown of flowers,  
that one upholds and one devours:  
the badge that Finrod made of yore  
and Felagund his son now bore." (a)

And indeed the silver ring clearly showed the badge of Finarfin and his house. "As a descendent many generations removed this comes to you."

Aragorn hesitated then picked it up, turning it to the light so that the green gems flashed even in the weak winter sunlight. Still he hesitated to put it on and Elrond took it from him and slid it onto his foster son's finger for him. For a moment it felt too big and then it seemed to draw in to fit snugly.

Elrond lifted the box and laid it across his lap. "And I have other heirlooms of your house for you are also descended from Isildur." He lifted aside the cloth to reveal the shards of a mighty sword, the remnants of its blade blackened. "These are the shards of Narsil, Elendil's sword that cut the one ring from Sauron's hand."

In growing wonder Aragorn reached out to run his finger along one of the pieces, discovering that it still held an edge after all these generations. Elrond continued.

"Great deeds await you Aragorn. I cannot foresee the full tale of your life but I do know that it has the potential to be longer than other mortals, unless evil befalls you, as it did your father. I sense a coming together of many threads soon. A great nexus of events is ahead and you will be a part of it, but I cannot see any more than that. It may be that your house will finally come into its inheritance through you. If it does I have one other heirloom, the Sceptre of Annuminas. This I will present to you only when you wear the crown."

Aragorn shook his head. "I am not ready to be a king. The events of these past weeks have shown that at least."

"Indeed you are not," was his foster father dry assertion. "That is why you must go out into the world and learn. I have kept you safe and taught you all that I can. The rest you will glean only through experience."

Aragorn smiled at last. "To learn to fight you must fight."

Elrond rose, his smile echoing Aragorn's. "You will discover that thrones are won and held by much more than fighting."

 _ **The Lay of Leithian**_ by JRR Tolkien – from The Lays of Beleriand


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Aragorn took one of the valley's woodland paths. It was the first time he had tackled one of the steeper trails but he felt in need of solitude for his mind was filled to overflowing with information.

He had been too tired to speak to his mother after the meeting with Elrond the previous day and had taken to his bed. It seemed that while he slept Elrond's words had settled into place, like the missing pieces of some puzzle that had vexed him by their absence all his life.

This morning Gilraen had come to him. At first it was clear that she was a little cross at Elrond's actions but, Elrond having dropped the stone in the pond, Gilraen had obviously decided that it was a mother's duty to help to steer her son safely through the resulting waves.

For a large portion of the day they remained closeted in Aragorn's chamber and at last he learned of his father and grandparents. At first it was general information about his line of descent but, when they had eaten the lunch Elrond sent and drunk the fine wine that came with it, talk turned to simpler things. At last, Aragorn learned what manner of man his father was; wise and stern, brave and loving. When Gilraen finally spoke of his death at the hand of orcs, when out fighting with the sons of Elrond, he began to understand more clearly her distress at his recent actions and her anger at Elladan and Elrohir.

After she departed Aragorn slept a little but upon waking, discovering that the sun had not yet set, he decided to clear his mind with a walk. Knowing that Elrond would disapprove of him walking so far from the house unaccompanied he avoided the confrontation by the simple expedient of not telling him. He needed to be alone and he knew of a small lake by a glade where he could sit in peace to consider what he would do with this new life that had been thrust upon him.

The air of the valley of Imladris was always milder than the surrounding mountains, even in winter and Aragorn drew it deep into his lungs, smiling when he felt only the faintest tug from his now healed rib. He only needed his stick for the steeper parts of the path and at other times he swung it jauntily. Caught up as he had been in thoughts of his lineage he started to sing the Lay of Luthien, for her husband, Beren was a long distant sire.

It was as he finished the verse depicting the first meeting of Beren and Luthien that a flicker of light at the edge of his vision brought him up short. It had been a long time since he had suffered the strange lights but for a moment his heart stopped in alarm. Then he realised that this was different, not a strange luminous glow but the splintered glint of sunset upon something hard. He turned to find its source and discovered himself beside the glade and there, strolling between the silver stems of the birch trees about its border, was the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen.

His mind refused at first to accept that what he was seeing was not some vision drawn forth by song in an over tired mind. For there, to his seeming, walked Luthien herself, the nightingale, fairest of all elf kind that has lived down all the long ages. She appeared to float, her blue and silver mantle so heavy that it did not stir with her passage. Then a stray breeze lifted the dark fall of her long hair and he saw again the glint that had caught his eye. For her tresses were held back from alabaster brow by a mithril fillet studded with clear white gems like stars, and in youthful fancy Aragorn imagined Elbereth, the star kindler herself, gifting it to the lady; for surely she deserved such an honour?

Growing up as he had amongst the beauty of many elven ladies, yet he had never felt his heart stirred by one. Whether because their faces hid long years that intimidated a young mortal or simply that his heart had not found what it sought, he had never questioned. Now he had his answer. It seemed that, like his long distant elven kin, his heart was bred to love only one.

She turned to leave and, fearful of losing her, Aragorn called out the first name that came to mind, remnant of his song . . . "Tinuviel, Tinuviel!" as Beren had once done upon first seeing Luthien as she danced in a similar glade.

The vision turned once more, gliding across the grass on silent feet to stand before him. When he only stood, tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth, she smiled. "Who are you? And why do you call me by that name?"

"I had been singing the Lay of Luthien and suddenly there you were, just as I had imagined her."

The lady laughed softly and Aragorn was reminded truly of the song of the nightingale he had named her. "I am not she." Then she looked deep into his face and pain flickered briefly in the depths of her eyes. "And yet, perhaps one day I may share her fate." Then she smiled again and Aragorn thought for a moment that he knew her.

Mentally shaking himself, he made a bid to gather in his scattered wits, bowing formally. "I am Es . . . I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Isildur's Heir, Lord of the Dunadain." Even as he recited his newly discovered lineage he wanted to stop up his mouth, for such a great line would be as the blink of an eye to elven kind.

She only laughed again. "Then we are distant kin. I am Arwen, whom some call Undomiel."

When Aragorn only continued to stare blankly she added, "The daughter of Elrond."

Aragorn's brows drew down in confusion. "Elrond has a daughter? I have lived here since a babe and never has he mentioned you. Where have you been hiding these years? I thought I knew every corner of this valley."

Arwen lifted a finely arched brow and Aragorn knew now why he had thought her smile familiar. It was a trait used often by her sire and brothers. "I have been living with my mother's kin beyond the mountains. But my grandmother decided it was time I returned to visit my father. It is many lifetimes of mortal men since I have walked here and I have a favourite spot to watch the stars, just beyond this glade."

That was when Aragorn realised how hopeless was his plight. He was barely twenty years of age and this elven maiden was born before his great, great grandfather. Oh, their bodies looked the same age but the minds within were vastly different. And yet he knew at once that he loved this lady and would never love another. Could the Valar truly be so cruel?

Aragorn's heart saddened as those thoughts found root and, bowing again, he said. "Then I will leave you to your contemplation for it is time that I returned to the house. I suspect your father will already be sending out search parties. I have been ill and was not given permission to stray so far."

Arwen smiled and her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Then you had better return swiftly. My father has an uncanny knack for knowing where to look for his strays."

Turning, Aragorn walked back the way he had come, leaning heavily upon his stick and feeling anew every ache of his mortal body. Arwen watched until he disappeared from site then turned thoughtfully for the small lake and the first evening stars.

O0O

Gilraen noticed a difference in her son when he returned. Thinking he would turn to her eventually she said nothing for many days. But when Aragorn's sombre mood did not lift she approached him directly. Snows had come to the surrounding mountains during the night and although none lay within Imladris the air was sharp enough to prickle the nose and numb uncovered mortal fingers. As was often his wont of late Aragorn sat in the pavilion by the Lady Celebrian's rose garden. He was bundled against the cold in a fur lined cloak and when he saw his mother he lifted a corner of the blanket draped over his legs, by Lindir of course, to allow her to share its warmth.

"Good morning, mother." Aragorn leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Good morning, Aragorn." She waited, admiring with him the raw boned beauty of the naked garden. When Gilraen could stand the silence no longer she decided it was time to prize open her son's mind. "You have been withdrawn for many days and yet Elrond says you are healing swiftly now and will soon be able to ride again."

Aragorn smiled ruefully and patted the thick blanket covering their legs. "I wish he would explain that to Lindir. Elrohir has already selected a horse for me. He is not Brethel but he is high spirited and strong. He and Elladan will ride out with us tomorrow to see if I and Baranfaer will suit."

His mother laughed. "Well, I for one am grateful for Lindir's care. Even with gloves my hands were beginning to feel the cold." She paused, considering how best to precede now that she knew it was not the enforced inaction that troubled him. Their people had ever been ones for plain dealing so Gilraen decided to simply ask. "You have been distant for many days. What troubles you? Is it your heritage?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Not directly."

Gilraen silently berated the elven foster father who had taught him to remain so close mouthed. "Then indirectly?"

When he turned to face her at last, Gilraen was surprised to see sorrow and hopelessness in his gaze and she fumbled instinctively to take his hands in hers beneath the blanket. "What is it, my son?"

Aragorn looked away. "You have seen the Lady Arwen? She returned recently from Lothlorien."

"Elrond's daughter? I have. Although I have not yet been privileged to speak with her." When her son made no further comment Gilraen considered more closely his words. Elrond had once told her that Arwen lived with her grandparents and would continue to do so. When the lady had arrived, unanounced, a few days ago Elrond had seemed worried rather than pleased. Since then Gilraen had noticed her sons gaze drifting often to the lady in the Hall of Fire and had even noticed Arwen watching her son upon occasion. Her heart sank as she realised the implication. "You cannot believe yourself to be in love with her."

Aragorn's reply was swift and sure. "I do not 'believe' myself to be in love with her. I 'am' in love with her."

"You aim too high, Aragorn. We are from the line of kings, yes. But we are mortal and she is an immortal elf. To marry would be folly, even were she not the daughter of Elrond. Already she has lived many times the age you can hope to achieve. Her wisdom is greater than we can imagine and, even if Elrond were to permit such a union, you will grow old and frail while she remains hale and fair."

Aragorn withdrew his hands from her grasp, turning to survey the empty garden once more. "And yet Beren, our forefather, wed Luthien, the fairest of elvenkind that was in the ancient world."

Gilraen closed her eyes, considering as a mother how Elrond would feel about any union between a mortal and his only daughter. "Luthien chose the path of mortality. She is the only one of her people who did not arrive in the West. Would you wish that upon Arwen? Would you wish it upon her father or her mother? Elrond has protected and raised you as his own."

Aragorn's voice took on a stubborn tone that Gilraen rarely heard. "Perhaps the lady will gainsay her father in this matter and wed without his consent. She is of an age to do so now, as will I be in a few short months."

Gilraen tried to remain calm. "If you were to wed and there was issue of your union how long do you think that child would survive without Elrond's protection? Imladris has provided sanctuary and support for our house for generations past. Our whole line could die out for the sake of your love."

When Aragorn only continued to look out into the garden Gilraen sighed and rose. "Think on what I have said, my son. And choose wisely your path."

It seemed to Aragorn that there was no choosing to be done and he was now destined to walk a dangerous and very lonely path.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Aragorn's first horse ride was uneventful, although that was to be expected as they insisted upon riding only the most level of paths and Elladan and Elrohir flanked him closely all the way. Still, the young chieftain was pleased to be able to sit a horse again and very pleased with Baranfaer, who proved to be as intelligent as he was magnificent; not that he expected any lesser beast to be chosen for him by Elrohir.

The air was crisp and fresh and plumes of vapour rose from the nostrils of riders and mounts. All too soon it seemed to Aragorn they were clattering back into the courtyard. Elrohir leapt lightly from his horse, standing by Aragorn's stirrup as the youth dismounted. Aragorn frowned, resenting the implication that he was not capable and refused his foster brother's assistance, much to the other's amusement.

It was Elrond who strode up to pointedly hand Aragorn his stick. "Did you enjoy your ride?" he asked as he stroked Baranfaer's glossy chestnut flank.

Aragorn glowered at his brothers who had both now dismounted. "I would have enjoyed it more if we had actually done some riding. All I did was sit in a saddle like a piece of baggage."

Elrond waived away his sons and they led the horses around the corner of the house in the direction of the stables. "It is scant weeks since you found difficulty even sitting in a chair. And your body will take time to reacustom itself to exercise. Muscles must be rebuilt slowly and carefully after such a long period of inactivity." He beckoned Aragorn to his side as they mounted the steps to the doors. As he stripped off his gloves Aragorn was annoyed to find that his foster father's words were true. His thighs were aching, as was his back and he noted that Elrond accommodated his discomfort without comment, strolling more slowly than was usual, down the hallway to his private study.

"Although I understand that you have been walking much of late. That has helped restore some muscle." Elrond's bland comment set alarm bells ringing within Aragorn's mind. "I have a fire lit in my study. Come and share a glass of wine." The alarm bells began to ring much louder. Elrond did not need a fire, nor was he accustomed to request Aragorn's presence in his inner sanctum.

Elrond ushered him in, waiving him to one of the comfortable chairs by the hearth. He turned to pour two cups of fine spiced red wine, pausing to dip a hot poker into both before handing one to his foster son. Aragorn sipped appreciatively, holding his cup between both hands to warm them. When his foster father said nothing, merely sipping from his own cup, Aragorn decided to get this . . . whatever it was . . . over with. "Did you wish to speak to me about something, Adar?"

Elrond shook his head. "I do not think I will ever grow used to the impatience of mortals. Most particularly young mortals."

Aragorn shrugged stiff shoulders. "We do not have the luxury of centuries to come to the point."

Elrond tipped his cup to his foster son, in acknowledgement of the hit. "Very well." He set down his cup upon the hearth. "Foresight shows me that a great doom awaits you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You will either rise above your sires or you will fall into darkness with all of your kin. Your path will be bitter and hard." His gaze bored deep into Aragorn's. "Do you then consider it wise to bind any woman to you until the outcome is known?"

Aragorn set down his own cup, deciding that it would be wise to keep his wits about him in this conversation. "Has my mother spoken to you?"

"She has been a loving and dutiful mother. She did not need to speak. I can see it in your eyes whenever you look upon my daughter." Elrond's gaze was as sharp as the edge of a new broken ice flow. "Even were I willing to approve your suit I doubt Arwen would look upon it favourably. She is already many mortal generations older than you. You are but a stripling tree to her oak in full strength."

"I know that my gaze is set too high and yet I love her and I will not deny that fact," Aragorn replied firmly. "Have you sought out Arwen's heart? You say that you have seen how I look at her. Have you then noted the way that she looks at me?"

Elrond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. When next he spoke his voice had aged a hundred years. "As her father I do not wish to stand between Arwen and the potential love of her life. But if you decide to take up your mantle and fail what of Arwen? Can you ask her to give up eternity with her people to spend just a few years or even months with you? If you wed tomorrow she could be widowed next week. Consider your mother's life."

Mention of his mother's long years of loneliness brought Aragorn pause. Could he ask any woman, elf or mortal, to accept that? How much worse would it be for an immortal elf? Certainly, not all the Chieftain's of the Dunadain died young, but darkness was growing and the odds were stacking up against him. Which would be better - to wed Arwen, only to be struck down within a few months, leaving her to mourn for the rest of eternity - or to leave now and hope that this feeling he thought they shared was but an illusion destined to fade with absence.

Even as he considered this Aragorn knew that it was no illusion on his part. But although he sensed something from the lady, he had not yet dared to seek out her full feelings on the matter. Perhaps he was fooling himself regarding her reactions. He would not be the first youth to mistake a lady's polite responses for something more.

How long he stared into the fire Aragorn could not tell but, as always, Elrond waited patiently. When he focussed once more upon his foster father Elrond nodded. "Even you still have some time. Let the years bring what they will. If Sauron is defeated and you claim your throne matters may be different. At least then, if you persuade her to wed, you will have some years together." He lifted his cup once more and, unable to think of anything else to say, Aragorn joined him.

For long minutes both sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts, staring into the flames and sipping the warm wine. Finally, Aragorn set down his empty cup and stood. "I think it is time that I departed, Adar."

Elrond remained seated but considered his foster son for several moments. It was clear that Aragorn was not speaking of simply leaving the room. "You have decided upon your course." It was not a question.

Aragorn nodded. "I have a role to play in coming events it seems. I had best learn the skills needed to ensure that I and my people survive them." He squared his shoulders. "It may fall to me to reclaim the throne of the High King. Until that day I can best prepare by discovering as much as I can about the lands and people of that kingdom."

Elrond arose, moving to stand before the man he had helped nurture. "No matter what befalls either of us, you will always be welcome here, Estel." With the childhood name on his lips Elrond reached out and drew Aragorn into his fatherly embrace for long moments.

When they parted both faces were tearful. No more words were spoken and Aragorn departed swiftly. Elrond leaned a hand upon the mantel, staring long at Aragorn's abandoned stick. Then he lifted it tenderly to lean it against the wall beside the fireplace. "Be safe, child of my heart."

END

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